


Masters of Stealth

by strobelast (sacae)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacae/pseuds/strobelast
Summary: Claude and Flayn have sex on a camping trip while trying not to wake up Seteth in the next tent over.
Relationships: Flayn/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Masters of Stealth

**Author's Note:**

> my first writing commission! hope you all enjoy, I tried real hard to stop getting distracted by Dramatic Backstory Details and just write some porn.

It took hours of arguing with Seteth to let Flayn go on the group camping trip, and hours longer to get him to let her have her own tent, but in the end he finally agreed—on the condition that his own tent was set up right next to hers. Flayn was more than happy with the compromise, and she was having fun on the trip. She got to go hiking, gather water and pick wild berries at a stream, eat s'mores with toasted marshmallows, and try with all her might to bellow campfire songs as loud as Raphael did. Ever since Flayn and Seteth had entered witness protection, Flayn spent so much of her time feeling isolated and fake, like she couldn't just be herself or have real relationships anymore. But Claude had figured out that she wasn’t who she said she was, and still wanted to be with her, and still invited her along on this trip—and today, she had been in amidst the chatter and laughter with everyone else, out in the wilderness doing regular, cliche camping things she had only read about. She got to be normal.

Zipped up in her sleeping bag at night, she was relieved to have a moment of privacy without Seteth around. But after the energy of the day, the emptiness of her tent felt lonely, too.

She was just about to drift off to sleep when the sound of crickets chirping was interrupted by the much closer, much quieter sound of her tent's entrance flap slowly unzipping partway.

"Flayn," whispered Claude through the couple inches of opening he gave himself. "You still awake? I brought you those books you were talking about."

Flayn hurriedly shuffled out of her sleeping bag to open the flap the rest of the way and usher him inside. "Why did you bring them now?" she whispered back. "You could have given these to me at any time."

"Sure, but sneaking around makes things more fun," he said with a wink.

They scrunched up close together on top of Flayn's sleeping bag and mat, and Claude flung his coat over both their heads to muffle their voices and the light of his flashlight, and they poured over the back summaries of the novels Claude found as he started going on about the research he put in to find local authors who wrote about their neighborhoods—and Flayn was happy about the books, she was, but compared to Claude's closeness, his hushed voice at her ear, the heat of his shoulder against hers through the thin material of his T-shirt...

Well! Well, the books just weren't as exciting.

Squirming on her elbows, Flayn pressed just a little closer and asked, “Did you really come to my tent tonight... just to give me these books?”

Claude gave a husky, stifled snicker that brushed against her cheek, waggling his eyebrows. “In the mood for a daring outdoor tryst?” he teased, low and hushed. Heat crept up Flayn’s neck and over her face, and she reached out to curl her hand around Claude’s, over his grip on the flashlight.

“Well, yes,” she agreed.

Claude’s mouth dropped open in a startled little ‘o,’ and his eyes flicked around like he hoped to somehow see if there was someone coming from under his jacket, and then _he_ was shifting and leaning in even closer, hissing with a bewildered smile and a faint note of alarm, “Seriously? Seteth will skin me alive if he catches us.”

“He won’t catch us! So long as we are quiet enough not to wake him,” she whispered back.

Claude’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Quiet? You?”

“I—" Flayn started, but her voice pitched up in her indignance, and Claude quickly pressed his free hand over her mouth with a _shhhhhh._

After a moment of listening in silence to be sure no one was stirring in the next tent over, he lowered his hand and gave her a lopsided smile. “Don't get me wrong, it’s cute that you just can’t help yourself.”

“I’m sure I can,” she insisted, dropping her voice as soft as she could. “If I must, then I’ll simply—cover my mouth, just as you were doing. Didn’t you say that the sneaking around makes things more fun?”

Claude stared her down, taking in her flushed cheeks, so close their noses were nearly touching. So close she could see how much his pupils had expanded in the dark. “You’re feeling adventurous today, little Flayn,” he breathed. “I guess I am, too.”

He turned off the flashlight and set it down, and they hurriedly moved the books and Claude’s jacket aside in the dark so they’d be well out of the way on the other side of the tent. Claude touched her shoulder to guide her wordlessly onto her back atop the sleeping back, then reached for the buttons of her pajama top and started laying kisses at her neck. His mouth followed after his fingers as he made his way down the row—after the first button, a kiss to her collarbone; after the third, a kiss between her breasts—and Flayn threaded her fingers in his hair and tried to breathe through her nose. He dipped his tongue in her navel when the last button came undone, and she nearly choked to keep from crying out.

He stilled for a few seconds, partly to let her catch her breath, partly because her unconsciously tightened grip on his hair kept him in place. He peered up at her through his eyelashes, and when she tilted her head down and met his gaze, he smiled before sticking his tongue in her navel again, mouthing wetly at her stomach. This time she stayed utterly silent, not even breathing, and he grinned and left a featherlight kiss on her hip before lifting his head. “Doing good?” he whispered.

“Yes, I believe I’m getting the hang of this,” she breathed back, and slid her hands down his neck to tug at the collar of his shirt. He pushed himself up to obediently remove it, tossing it over in the vicinity of the books, and she circled her arms around his shoulders and slid her hands down his back when he came back down to kiss her, tracing the goosebumps patterning his skin. In sharp contrast to the chill of the night air, the kiss was wet and hot, open-mouthed and with Claude's tongue stroking the roof of Flayn's mouth in a way that had her toes curling. Flayn had never been so conscious of how _loud_ kissing was before now; there was a carefulness to the kiss, slow and quiet, and yet it felt like the damp slide of their lips and the sound of their own heavy breathing still filled the whole tent.

Then Claude slid his hand down the front of her pajama bottoms, and Flayn broke the kiss to suppress her voice by thinning her lips togethers. Somehow, going stock-still, she managed not to make a sound as he rubbed at her clit through the cotton of her panties, rolling and stroking the shape of it with his fingertips.

"I was wrong to doubt you," he murmured with a breathy little laugh at her jaw, "You're a master of stealth." Flayn had to bite the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh.

“That’s right. I knew I could do it,” she whispered back, and she slid her hands down the planes of his back to grope his bottom, a little emboldened. Claude grinned back at her before schooling his expression into a mock-steely look.

“Well, Flayn, if that _is_ your real name,” he started solemnly, and Flayn had to clasp both hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles after all. Pressing a smile to her neck, he murmured, “I don’t have anything with me, so we’ll have to get you pretty wet for this," and then ducked his head lower to kiss her chest.

Claude slid his hand into her panties properly and rubbed circles at the folds of her entrance as he mouthed and sucked at the small mound of her breast. As one finger pushed its way in and he flicked his tongue over her nipple, Flayn threw her head back and closed her eyes, breathing ragged through her nose as she clamped her hands even more tightly over her own mouth. The way Claude fingered her seemed almost casual, unhurried and without much force, but by now he knew just where to press and rub inside of her to make her buck and melt under his hands, just when to stretch her out around a second finger, just how much pressure to use when he teased at her nipple with a hint of teeth; although Flayn knew better, it almost felt like he _wanted_ her to cry out, like every thrust and curl of his fingers was deliberately working to take her apart. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed him tight, holding back with every fiber of her being, but she still couldn't help but let out high little whines in the back of her throat, muffled by her palms, and though she knew they weren't any louder than the quiet squelching of Claude's fingers slipping in and out, every noise, even her own heartbeat sounded deafening in her ears. The pleasant burn of a third finger pushing into her and stroking her inner walls soothed the ever-growing sense of need inside her, and yet also stoked it even higher, enough to drag her right up to the edge but frustratingly not enough to push her over. Claude just kept toying with her, idly twisting his fingers in and out and occasionally brushing his thumb against her clit again, sucking on the tip of her breast while he drew random little patterns across it with his tongue, until Flayn let out a hard exhale and took her hands from her mouth to gasp _"inside"_ as quietly as she could.

"You sure?" he asked, his breath ghosting over the wet skin his own mouth left behind. The risk of the whole situation, the knowledge that Seteth was sleeping just a few feet away fluttered urgently in Flayn's chest; it felt like they could be interrupted at any moment, and she was bordering on desperate to have Claude inside of her before time ran out. She clenched her teeth to keep her voice in and insisted by trying to drag him down with her legs where they crossed around his back. "Okay, okay, I got it," he laughed breathily, and shifted up to kiss her again.

He hooked his fingers in the waistbands of her pajama pants and underwear to slide them both down at once, and she lifted her hips and brought up her knees one leg at a time to let him pull them off completely. The cold air felt good against her overheated skin, but the heat of Claude's body bearing down on her was even better as he shoved down his own jeans and finally, _finally_ slid inside. Claude swallowed down the moan of relief Flayn let out into his mouth at the shape of him filling her up, and then he let out a choked, gutteral hiss of his own as she clenched down around him. "Did you just cum?" he mumbled against her lips, sounding almost a little awed.

"Because you simply kept touching me for so long," Flayn breathed back, eyelashes fluttering. Claude sealed their mouths together again and thrust into her as she was still riding out her orgasm, smothering another small, involuntary cry.

Flayn could barely even think through the pleasure and rushing adrenaline, reduced to scrabbling at Claude's back for something like stability. The harder it was to hold back her voice, the more terrified she was of being caught, and yet the fear only seemed to make everything that much more viscerally hot. And it wasn't just her; the snap of Claude's hips and the unevenness of his breath were just a little more erratic than they usually would be. When Flayn's next orgasm came, much swifter than the first, and she clenched down on him again, he finally cracked and let out a stifled moan of his own, breaking the kiss and and threadily whispering, "Oh, _fuck, Flayn,"_ and sinking into her to the root, practically trembling from his self-restraint. He stayed sheathed inside of her just like that until she came back down again, her breathing evening out once more, and then pulled out and quickly jerked himself off into the palm of his hand, resting his forehead on Flayn's shoulder and shuddering to completion. "Fuck," he mumbled again.

"That... was very enjoyable," sighed Flayn, and Claude lightly bit down on her collarbone to keep from laughing too loudly.

"Hey, so," he whispered eventually, "do you have tissues in here or anything? Or do I need to lick my hand clean?"


End file.
